


Dignity

by FollowerofMercy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Ed is there but this ain’t about him, Ed is unconscious for over half of it so no Al & Ed, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of winry, and a swear word, but I'm sure y'all can handle that if you watched the series lol, getting the lad some pants, rated t for the canon typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollowerofMercy/pseuds/FollowerofMercy
Summary: During his first night as a suit of armor, Alphonse comes to grips with his situation. A story about small comforts.Or, the story in which Alphonse realizes he needs pants.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Pinako Rockbell
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	Dignity

**Author's Note:**

> Friends got me into FMAB, fell in love. I'm doing [a liveblog as I rewatch the show](https://fmab-liveblog.tumblr.com). Should be fun!  
> Also big shoutout to my friend Hadithi for beta reading!

Alphonse woke to white. 

He grunted and tried to blink away the afterimages of Truth while the chorus of all existence drowned his thoughts. Sensation trickled back to him – first his hearing, then his vision. Ed’s screams were the first thing to greet him. They worked their way into his head and echoed throughout his body. They stripped him raw from within, cut through the universe’s roar assaulting his mind.

Al took a deep breath with lungs that weren’t there, moaned with a mouth that wasn’t there and slowly propped himself to a kneel. He didn’t question why he towered over Ed or why he couldn’t feel the stone biting into his knees. He didn’t ask why static swallowed his memories one by one. All he knew was that Ed was in front of him, tears streaming down his face as he slumped onto his side.

“It worked!”

“You’re bleeding,” Al said simply, eyes flicking down to where Ed’s right arm should’ve been. His own twitched in sympathy, a hollow clank echoing in the room.

“You’re back,” Ed whimpered and ignored Al’s comment. His finger caught in the divot below Al’s eye as his hand dropped away, flopping into the growing puddle with a wet slap. The rest of Ed followed.

Al’s chest flexed as he tried to breathe, a hundred thoughts all screaming for his attention at once.

Ed curled on himself, his remaining arm and leg tucked up to his chest. “You’re back. I’m so glad you’re back. I’m so sorry.”

Al looked around at the wreckage, the blood, his clothes - _why were they over there? -_ and the transmuted corpse beyond his brother’s trembling body. “Brother? What happened? What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Al,” Ed cried into the floor. The puddle of blood spread, seeping from the messy bandage on his leg and flowing from the stump of his shoulder.

The roar in Al’s mind settled to a numb buzz, finally quieting as the Truth slipped away. He was calm, not a hitch in his breath or a tremble in his limbs. The quiet let one thought push itself to the forefront – Ed needed him.

With that realization, Alphonse scooped his brother up and bolted for the stairs. His head clanged against the ceiling and rebounded against his backplate, but he didn’t question the lack of pain. He couldn’t afford to, not with Ed babbling apologies and thanks into his chest.

He should’ve felt his brother’s blood dripping down his stomach, should’ve felt the shock as he tripped over the steps, should’ve felt his heart pounding in his chest, but none of that mattered as Alphonse shouldered his way through the door and out across the yard.

He should’ve felt his grip tightening on his brother before Ed screamed and kicked his chest.

“Al! Al, you’re crushing me!”

He looked down and couldn’t quite make sense of the metal chestplate between him and his brother, but he didn’t need to understand right now. He moved Ed into his field of vision and loosened his grip, careful not to drop him. Ed clung to his arm as he charged on towards the Rockbell’s house. Not once did he question why he didn’t get tired. 

Hours later, Alphonse laid on the floor next to his brother’s cot. His arm rested on the bed, held high above his head for Ed to hold. He tried not to replay the past few hours in his mind – Ed so pale, Winry crying as she fetched the bandages Pinako demanded, that numbness that hadn’t left him since he first woke. Instead, Al counted his brother’s breaths to try and lull himself to sleep.

He got to 2135 before he admitted it wasn’t working.

Alphonse sat upright and winced at the metallic screech. Thankfully Ed and Winry were too exhausted to be woken easily, letting him get to his feet with a mess of clanking, banging and muttered 10-year-old curses. Al carefully uncurled Ed’s fingers from around his wrist.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

He made his way downstairs, quietly wondering why his voice sounded so far away and hollow. He intended to go outside for some fresh air but Pinako kept a largish mirror at the base of the stairwell. Alphonse stopped short when his reflection appeared alongside him.

He was naked.

Alphonse blinked, or tried to, as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He shook his head and mentally chastised himself for the silly thought. He had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was wearing armor.

He stared longer as the dread set in. He had no blood to go cold. He had no stomach to lurch, but his soul could recoil from the horrible truth in front of him. He wasn’t wearing armor. He _was_ the armor. ~~~~

Alphonse staggered back and nearly lost his footing. He made an unholy racket as he caught himself, one sure to wake up everyone in the house, and gripped his head in his hands. He knew he was crouched, he could see it, but he couldn’t feel the strain in his knees or the floor beneath his feet. He watched himself dig at the decorative teeth of the helmet. The quiet rasp of fabric on metal filtered through his haze of panic, but nothing more.

“No… no no no,” he whimpered and backed away. He looked down at his hands and wrung them, twisting the fabric and metal plates to force something, anything. He told himself he could feel it, that he knew his hands were touching, but was it real or a trick of his eyes?

Alphonse hunched and just breathed for a moment. The motion was soothing, normal. He could live with this. He was going to have to live with this.

He straightened and willed the last of his horror to settle down, still present but masked by shaky determination. He couldn’t afford to despair, not when Ed still needed him. Not when Pinako and Winry had worked so hard to help him. After a breathless sigh, Alphonse forced himself to look in the mirror one last time.

He needed clothes if he was going to live like this.

Alphonse crept through the house, trying and failing to stifle the sounds his body made as he moved. He kicked a bunch of furniture on his way, weakly swearing to himself each time he shoved a table with a misstep.

He eventually made his way to the ruined laundry room. Puddles of water littered the floor from Winry carrying buckets, Pinako yelling for her to hurry. Linens were piled high in the corner – most dirty from normal use, but those on the top layer had faded from red to brown. Alphonse reached in and took one of the less bloodstained sheets.

Surely this was ruined, he thought as he held a clean spot to his waist. Hopefully they wouldn’t be even more disappointed in him if he cut it up to make some proper clothing.

“Alphonse?”

Al shrieked and dropped to his knees with a resounding clang. “I’m sorry!”

“Alphonse, stop that.” Pinako approached with a lamp to guide her way, one hand outstretched. “It’s alright. What are you doing awake?”

Al stopped cowering but remained on the floor. He tucked the blanket to his chest. “I, uh, I can’t sleep.”

“Would you like me to make up a bed?”

“No, I,” his voice shook, resolve crumbling as the shame of exposure curled in his chest. “I mean I _can’t_ sleep.”

Pinako edged closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t feel, I can’t touch, I can’t, I don’t know where anything is, I’m _stuck_ in this armor and I, I-“ Al’s voice pitched higher and higher, his soul desperately trying to convey the fear he couldn’t physically express. Pinako pulled him into a hug before he could panic. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you.”

Al’s hands hovered over her back but didn’t reciprocate. “I… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“But I squished Ed.”

Pinako pulled back and rubbed a thumb over the metal that served as his cheek. “And he’s fine. I’m sure you’ll learn your strength, and later you and that smartass brother of yours will reverse whatever this is, alright? Just don’t panic.”

“Okay. Okay…”

Alphonse curled back on himself and hid in the bloodied blanket. He would’ve started crying a while ago if he had his body - gross, childish tears and a snotty nose to go with them. He was grateful he at least he had this small shred of dignity. It didn’t stop him from shaking, though, and he knotted his fingers in his dirty covering.

“Um… Grandma Rockbell? If it’s not too much trouble, I’d really like some pants.”

Pinako blinked. “Pardon?”

“I’m not wearing anything. I know I’m not really naked but I feel… weird just walking around in front of you and Winry like this.”

“Ah. Well come on, then,” Pinako said and gestured for him to follow her. “We’ll get you something to cover yourself with. Now put that nasty sheet away and come with me.”

Alphonse followed her down to the automail workshop, wordlessly taking the sheet Pinako threw to him from the linen closet. Once there, he waited behind her while she folded the sheet in half and cut it widthwise.

“I’m no seamstress, but I’ll get you something that’ll work until we can get you some proper clothes, alright?”

“Thank you,” Alphonse whispered while she spun in her chair and held the squares of fabric up to his new waist.

“Hold this.”

Al watched his fingers so he could do as she asked. She grabbed a piece of heavy twine and wrapped it tight around the thinnest part of his waist, tied it in a knot at his left side. Once in place, she pulled the fabric from his grip and tucked it between the metal and rope so it hung down and concealed his groin. She went back to the table and grabbed a handful of safety pins, then pinned the fabric snug to the rope. She repeated the same in the back with the remainder of the sheet.

“There. It’s not pretty, but it’ll do until the morning. How’s it feel?”

“I have no idea,” Al said.

They stared at each other for a moment before Al burst out laughing, a hollow, frantic sound that echoed throughout his entire body. He thoughtlessly went to cover where his mouth would’ve been, misjudged the distance and bonked himself in the face. Pinako winced as his chin banged against his chest.

“Alphonse…”

“I’m, I’m sorry,” he cried. “It’s great, thank you.”

She stepped forward and put a hand on his heaving chest. “I’m going to take care of you while you figure this out, alright? You and Edward are like grandsons to me.”

Al hugged himself, voice small like it always was. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

Pinako gave him a hard rap on his stomach and then took his hand. “No more apologies tonight. Let me make you up a bed and get you a book. See if you can’t sleep now that you’re dressed.”

“Okay,” he nodded and followed her. She led him by the hand back up the stairs, patient as he watched where he put each foot. He didn’t argue while she set up a nest of blankets next to his brother’s bed, didn’t argue when she wrapped another around his shoulders. He settled down into the pile at her insistence, grateful that the fabric muffled his movements. She held him upright when the loincloth and sheets got caught in his joints and sent him sprawling. Once he was settled, she gave him a small smile and left to get a book.

He tried to smile with his eyes and his posture when Pinako returned. She handed him the two massive books in each hand, a heavy tome and a manual on automail materials. Both were dense and wordy, more than enough for the night.

“Thank you,” he whispered and cradled both to his chest.

Pinako leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He felt a pang through his being as he watched it happen, not feeling her warmth, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Of course. Come get me if anything happens.” She wrapped the blanket around his legs, tucking him in as best she could. “I’ll be back in the morning. Make sure Ed doesn’t reopen his wounds, alright?”

“I will.”

Pinako withdrew and pushed the door closed behind her, leaving Alphonse, Ed and Winry in moonlight dark. There was a lamp on the nightstand behind him, but Al chose to scoot into a strip of moonlight and let his eyes adjust. The dark was comforting – soft, filled with the sound of Winry and his brother’s breathing - and nothing like the blinding white before he woke up. He reached up and took Ed’s hand, smiling with his soul as Ed wrapped his fingers around his even in his sleep.

Once sure they were safe for now, Alphonse settled in to read.

**Author's Note:**

> In researching how many breaths Ed would take in a few hours, I realized I have an abnormally slow breathing rate and that I should probably go to the doctor! The point is, don't let anyone tell you fanfic is worthless. You learn all kinds of stuff.


End file.
